


The River is Dry

by Smilla



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2007, Episode: The Kids Are Allright, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-19
Updated: 2011-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smilla/pseuds/Smilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She tries to move her arms, her legs, tries to run. Can't do either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The River is Dry

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted [here](http://smilla02.livejournal.com/89633.html).]

It's something like waking up, brain fuzzy and eyes burning from the light after an infinity of darkness. She’s in front of a mirror. Naked. She sees her own body reflected back at her, her own hand posed on her belly.

She tries to move her arms, her legs, tries to run. Can't do either.

 _Look!_ The thing says. And she does, sees her own pale skin, feels the dampness of it, the scent of her favorite soap. Behind her reflection she can see a bed, a tiny desk and she knows without any doubt that she isn’t in her room anymore.

 _See?_ The thing says with a smirk that looks alien on her face. _I’m taking good care of you._ It skims a hand on her left nipple before cupping her tit with it. The other hand slides low. _Don't fight it, honey,_ it says.

She feels herself coming, the odious pleasure building in her body. Its moan -- hers -- is the last thing she hears before the darkness.  


-*-

The thing wakes her up with a caress on her face, like her mom used to do when she was seven and warm and safe under the blankets.

She's outside and it's dark, the moon full and its light silvery on the trees. A revolting stench under the one of fresh rain, the smell of earth. Acrid. Alarming. The thing controls her body, her sight, and it lets her eyes look at the sky, clear and bright with the moon.

 _I thought the fresh air would do you good, _it says._ It's such a nice night._

When it looks down, she sees the bodies. A woman and a man. Their limbs contorted and the man's still moving, blood spilling from his slit throat and gurgling like water from a fountain.

It takes her a moment to get it. When it raises her hand, she's covered in blood from hand to elbow. _What you did, oh my god, what did you do?_

 _Shush!_ The thing says, its tone kind, caring. _Shush, they got it coming._ It uses her boot to press on the man’s throat, a feeble movement of his arms, then he is immobile.

She screams.

-*-

It's only sound and smell, she can’t see a thing. She strains her senses, the sensations come back in progressive layers of awareness: feel of skin against her chest, coarse hair against her legs. The smell of cigarettes and booze and semen. Sweat trickling under her armpits. The air is hot and stuffy.

The thing talks to her in a whisper. _He's beautiful, _it says._ You should see him. _  
And she does, sight coming back suddenly. She sees him laying under her, head thrown back. She feels his cock in her at the same time.

 _No!_ She says, _Oh please, no!_

The thing laughs. _C'mon, honey, no reason why we shouldn't have some fun._

It's then that she starts crying. Feel the sensation of it, the burn in the eyes she doesn't have anymore, the pressure of it around her head. _Please,_ she says one more time. But it keeps on going and it doesn't let her go until the man falls asleep. Heavy weight of him across her chest.

-*-

It’s talking to a guy over what looks a diner table, there's a buzz of voices around her, an air of normalcy in the people coming and going. It whispers to her, _Sweetheart, you should try these fries._

Honey. Sweetheart. Like it means it.

She feels the taste of a fry on her lips, the salt making her mouth salivate, the crust cracking under her teeth, potato melting soft and juicy on her tongue.

She doesn't know how much time it’s allowed to pass since the last time, or where it's taken her. There’s nothing she can see that gives her and indication of where she is. It's day outside, sunny. The guy in front of her has large eyes. A distrustful expression on his face.

 _He’s such a cute boy, isn’t he?_ Its voice doubles, the tone it reserves for her different than the one it uses to talk out loud. There’s a tilt in it that’s sweet. Patient.

 _Shut up,_ she says. _Shut up! Shut up!_

She feels her body shrugging. The world around her goes silent like a TV turned on mute. She looks at the guy in front of her, his eyes going wider to something it's saying. She feels his warm hand in her own when the thing scribbles a number on it.

Distractedly, before it chases her off to her quiet darkness, she sees that the number it's writing on his skin is her cell phone.

-*-

 _He's so hot when he gets angry!_

The guy from the diner is shouting on her face.

"Just tell me who you are!" he says, his eyes hard and demanding. She holds her breath, thinking of getting some answers herself because what she thinks it is happening to her is impossible and crazy.

 _Fine._ It says.

She doesn’t know what it does, but she sees the repulsion dawning on the guy’s face. She looks at him as he dives for his bag on the bed, brandishing a flask like a weapon. She feels it recoil at it and the reaction is interesting even if the thing covers it with a slick voice her tone dropping to the same it uses when it talks to her.

If she still had a voice, she would shout, can't help the flicker of hope she feels looking at this guy who maybe knows what's happening to her. And maybe. Maybe....

The things must feel it too. A condescending tone when it says, _Oh honey! Everything's gonna be all right._

She sees the guy reacting to whatever it's telling him, he relaxes his grip on the flask, she can't hear a word but she sees the exact moment he yields. _No, please. Help me, please._

If she had a voice she would scream. If she still had arms and legs she would punch and kick.

This time, she goes back to her dark spot without it having to push her there.

 

-*-

The water feels great sliding on her body, she kicks her legs. Muscles straining with effort but she gets that extra push, the speed she knows she can get out of her body.

The whistle of the instructor is loud, it bounces back on the high walls of the pool. He nods at her, thumb up.

She grins back at him. Floats on her back, eyes closed, listening to her heartbeat calm, smell of chloride pungent and familiar and safe. The water laps gently at her sides.

She could fall asleep like this.

\--


End file.
